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Mentally, I’ve been doing pretty good for a while now. But there are still times where thoughts creep in and I have a solo pity party in my head.

My inner monologue goes something like this: “Everyone around you is having babies. You will never be one of them. You were there 3 times now, you had it, and still no baby. You were one of the first pregnant, and now you’ll be the last. At this point, you probably won’t even be able to get pregnant again. How are you ever going to find complete happiness again when you’ll never have a baby? You’re always going to feel just like this. In limbo. Between the then and now. For the rest of your life.”

Cue the violin.

It’s an awesome way to spend an evening, morning, or afternoon for that matter. Especially when there are tears accompanying it. Fortunately, these days I can get out of it pretty quickly. Whereas months before this, it would last weeks, sometimes a whole month like in the beginning.

But I think about how I’ve been this past year – almost every moment of the day consumed with my losses and fear of the future – and it makes me scared for what it will be like if I’m not able to do this thing. I’m sure the all-consuming thoughts and sadness for my losses will lesson over time, but I honestly feel like there will be a void in my life forever if I can’t.

I feel like this period in my life – the time after my first pregnancy until I hopefully have a baby in my arms – will be just that: the period in limbo. Sure, I’ve grown as a woman and have found a strength I didn’t know I had. But come on. For a year and a half now, I’ve been in distress. And there’s a huge part of me that knows that’s not going to go away until I successfully stay pregnant. And that just sucks.

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9 Responses to “Pity Party for 1”

1) I love you
2) I get the feeling of limbo, but here’s my beef with that outlook (which I believe I’ve been ranting to you about for over a month now, but hey, one more time doesn’t hurt, with a bit of a different spin on it this time). The problem with this kind of looking forward and looking back without living in the here and now is that you’re setting yourself up for inevitable heartbreak. I hope beyond all hope that you get to hold that baby in your arms – but the first few months after giving birth, I’m afraid you’ll be even more depressed and not enjoy the moment. I’m afraid of the build up here. Because I think that a) from everything I’ve heard and read, women like us are more prone to depression after giving birth b) I don’t want you to forget about the rest of your life.
My point is this: your longing is justified. But (and I know this is easier said than done!) why not take this time of “limbo” to learn how to cope with being in limbo? To explore other facets of yourself and find ways to grow?
I know! I know! I should shut up now because this is nearly impossible. Tell me about it. I struggle with it every day. But step one is not looking at this whole situation as “limbo”.
This is “life”.

I’m trying to enjoy my limbo and it’s obvious that you are too (dance party, anyone? Can’t do that while pregnant/holding a baby), but I also feel like I’m just filling time while I wait for a healthy pregnancy. It’s tough to tell yourself, “Look how great my life is,” when there’s a fat, baby-sized hole in your heart. And my biggest fear is that it never happens for me, and I have to move on to adoption or something else, and I spend – like you said – the REST OF MY LIFE hurting this way. I just have to trust that God wouldn’t let that happen to me (and it’s scary to trust God when your faith is as small and shaky as mine is), because He only gives us what we can handle, and I don’t think I could handle that.

Thanks, ladies. And like you just pointed out, and I told MO just a minute ago, I do still find joy in my life. I know I won’t feel like this forever, even if i can’t have a baby. It’s just somedays, I don’t want to accept that. And the pity party commences!

I hear you, too. I’ve been living in limbo a lot lately. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get out of it, but I like what MO said about learning to live *in* it.

I think it’s about finding balance. This may be just me, but I think it’s important to let those painful, pity-party feelings surface sometimes. The key for me is to have some control of when and how they come up, and how long they stay. I find, for myself, that it helps if I spend at least a few minutes a day acknowledging that I am grieving, and then go back to distracting myself. It seems to minimize the explosions of anger and oceans of grief that used to periodically engulf me. It hasn’t eliminated them, but it is helping . . .

I don’t know what to do about the mental voice though, except use some sort of external distraction to drown it out.

I completely understand. But you know what? As much as those pity party days SUCK, we need to have them. If you don’t let the sadness out occasionally, it will build up inside of you and eventually explode. You’ve been dealt a horrible hand. I would expect you to feel sadness about it. Not having pity parties is not normal.

All of that said, though, I hope that a dance party is right around the corner. There’s nothing like good music to get you smiling again. 🙂

I totally understand this ‘limbo’ place. I honestly try to enjoy the moment, and appreciate all those token things that I’m supposed to be appreciating (having drinks, lots of ‘me’ time, fewer responsibilities, sleep, more quality time with the hubbs, soft cheeses (yum), etc) but I can’t help but think “I don’t give a shit about all that, give me my baby and THEN I’ll appreciate life”…

Which, now that I type it out, sounds absolutely ridiculous.

I have better days than others, and I hope you have a better day soon.

Wow. I just stumbled across this blog. I have been where you are. I lost three pregnancies (some of which were fairly far along) and I completely fell into this void. But something, even in the darkest most lonely hours kept me moving forward. I now know that something was the feeling of my little one calling me to her. And now, I sit typing this with eyes welled up in tears with my 2 1/2 year old miracle in my peripheral vision while she dances her “ballet” steps with the most amazing smile I have ever seen.
Know that as hard as this is, it will make you the most amazing mother ever one day because every second will be as precious as it should be. Until then, distract yourself but hold true to your dream. Know that it will come. And don’t be afraid to give yourself days to just completely hate the wait.